


The Third Time

by HolmesianDeduction



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dark Days Universe, M/M, Sibling Incest (Consensual)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:52:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolmesianDeduction/pseuds/HolmesianDeduction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The third time that something happens between the Holmes brothers, it occurs to Sherlock that there is something that he might not understand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Third Time

**Author's Note:**

  * For [findingsherlock (FindingSherlock)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FindingSherlock/gifts).



             The first time it happened, there wasn’t any time to process it, only a tangle of limbs and need spurred by loneliness and dull, purple bruises blossoming beneath the thin outer layer of pale skin.

             The second time it happened was a blur, a desecration of an old childhood sanctuary that he might not have remembered were it not for the vividness of blood on autumn leaves and the hoarseness of the voice in his ear, urging him on.

             The third time it happens, Sherlock Holmes, for once, has the time and presence of mind afterwards to fully digest what he has done.  It occurs to him, upon reflection, that his actions were more than a bit—

              _He pauses, but the word doesn’t come_.

             Suddenly words _do_  come to mind, but not the ones he was looking for.  Instead he hears his own voice, cracked with laughter, hissing words from the day before.

              _“What would Mummy think?”_

             Immediately, he sees, this time, rather than feels, Mycroft’s entire body stiffen as if by electric shock; his wildly exhilarated, breathless smile freezing and then twitching into a horrified grimace as he scrambles back from his brother, from _Sherlock_ , before launching to his feet and pushing on his coat in jerky, almost robotic motions.

             In the space of mere seconds, he is gone, leaving Sherlock sprawled in his armchair, thin chest heaving, long, feline limbs gone suddenly limp with adrenaline come-down, pale skin flushed with proximity and marred by the tiny rosettes of broken blood vessels.

             In hindsight, Sherlock is able to comprehend that conjuring the spectre of their mother was not the proper thing to do, even in their haze of adrenaline and endorphins.

              _But why_ , he wonders, _was Mycroft so affected by it?  Why should it matter what Mummy would think?_

             There is something, Sherlock concludes, that Mycroft understands about the activities of that particular afternoon, that he does not.


End file.
